


Pearl of the Evening

by Bead



Series: Pearl of the Evening [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dwarf Culture, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Hobbit Culture, Romance, fem!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin sees Billa far differently after she saves his life.  Billa's been seeing him a bit differently all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Water

**Author's Note:**

> I got caught up in The Hobbit fandom by reading so many lovely stories, I began to dream about them. A truly lovely dream featuring Thorin inspired this fic. 
> 
> As part of my research, I came across Richard Armitage in BBC's North and South, and found the protagonist played by Daniela Denby-Ashe to be my picture of Billa, though naturally our heroine is a bit older, but still quite fresh-faced. 
> 
> If you'd like the see the chemistry that inspired me, here's their lovely first kiss. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcVIV8plzWk
> 
> Authorial note: After having consulted a timeline for the Hobbit, I’ve elected to stretch the time a week or so between leaving Beorn’s, Gandalf’s departure, and the entry to Mirkwood. I figure if I was playing around with Bilbo’s gender, why the heck not?
> 
> Beta work and cheerleaders: gnomi, bethynyc and alizarin_nyc

~~~~

Billa sighed happily as she luxuriated in the feel of water, the silky, honey-scented suds of the soap from Beorn’s halls, and in feeling clean for the first time in days. Gazing up at the sky, she smiled, grateful she’d found the perfect spot, close enough to the company for Dwalin to grudgingly admit they could reach her at need, should she shout, but sheltered enough to cast modesty away, strip to her skin and have a proper bath. 

Warm rocks at her back aside, the sun was beginning to dip in the sky, the shouts and splashing of the company were dwindling, and soon someone would be by to politely bellow had the burglar drowned? 

She stood, pushed her hair back and made sure all the soap was rinsed off her skin. Satisfied, Billa waded a few feet to fetch her hopefully dry shift spread on a warm rock. She froze.

Thorin, in the act of gathering his own belongings, stood equally frozen a few yards upstream, naked as the day he was born, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Your pardon, Miss,” he rumbled and turned his back quickly, which did nothing, absolutely nothing, to make Billa any less gobsmacked, with the dripping hair and the plentiful muscles and the, um. Yes. Dressing. And speaking of which, she should…

“And m-mine,” she stuttered, flinging her nearly dry shift over her head. “I had not realized anyone was so near.” 

“I meant to be out of sight before you were done bathing,” he explained, head turned to the side, gaze fixed firmly on the trees. He winced. “Not that I was watching. I meant to keep watch… though Dwalin…” He sighed heavily. “I meant to be nearby, should. Orcs. Or.”

Billa clapped her hand over her mouth to hear him stumble so, something giddy and warm lodged beneath her heart. As Thoirn huffed out another sigh and tugged his shirt over his wet hair, she realized, belatedly, she should have turned her own back long, long ago. With one last look at his sturdy, strong body, she faced the sunset and mimicked his posture of staring at the trees so he could hear her. “That’s very kind of you,” she said softly. 

“Not at all,” he replied gruffly, sounding a bit nearer. “You are...our burglar. And you saved my life.” 

She swallowed hard, caught between his voice lingering over "burglar," and too-fresh memories of looming, murderous orcs. “I never guessed that came with a bath escort. ” 

Thorin huffed the barest laugh. “I never guessed you would be so brave.” His voice was as warm and low. 

“Neither did I,” Billa whispered. 

He did not reply, and Billa turned her face toward the sunset, not wanting to break this moment of peace and kindness between them. Since the skirmish with the orcs, Thorin had been more accepting of her and often kind in his gruff way, a precious thing, and she hoarded such moments. So, to preserve this, she would not budge, though she heard Thorin wade through the shallows to stand beside her. She could feel his gaze on her face, watching her for a long, long moment, but could not quite raise her eyes to his. 

“A pearl,” he said softly. 

“What?” 

“On the Carrock. With the sun on your face. You glowed like a pearl. I have often thought of it. Think of it.” 

“I, I am quite sure a good bit of that was windburn.” Billa looked at him now, standing in the water, sunset gilding his features, damp shirt and pants clinging to his skin, wet hair gleaming, eyes so blue, so intent on hers, and her breath caught. Encouraged, he took her hand in both of his and stroked her palm.

“Dwarrow do not often go to the sea. And so pearls are…rare to us. Precious.” 

“Oh. _Oh._ ” His voice and his touch made her feel quite dizzy and glad for the cool slap of the water against her ankles. “You…”

“Miss Baggins. Billa,” his voice was softly urgent, his eyes firmly on her hand. “I formally ask your permission to court you. I swear it will not go ill for you should you say no. Not with me, not with the company. I swear it. But I would be honored if...” 

All of a sudden, Billa’s mind stopped whirling about dizzily and made a bid for some sense. “Wait. Until very, _very_ recently, you assumed the worst of me at every turn, and made no bones about letting me know I was a constant irritation!”

He looked up at her, gaze chagrined and pleading. She raised both her eyebrows at him and gave the hand stroking hers a pinch. He bent his head and placed a kiss on her fingers as they clung to his. Without raising his head, he asked, “Do you know how pearls are made?”

“Well, yes, a bit of sand or something gets in, and the oyster covers the irritant…” The facts caught up to her, and she whacked him on the (rock hard) arm with her free hand. “Thorin Oakenshield!” 

He grinned, shy and dazzling, then, at her still-indignant eyebrows, sobered and drew his attention to their entwined hands, gently unclasping their fingers to kiss her palm, once and again. Besides the gesture being completely lovely, Billa began to suspect he was using it to both gather courage and keep her close. 

“In the beginning yes, but as time and our journey has worn on, I find you unexpected, rare, and precious. ” His voice dipped low, “As I said.” 

She took a deep, shaky breath. “That is the most romantic backhanded compliment I have ever, ever heard.” 

“Billa,” he knelt and looked up at her, eyes blazing. “I have seen your home. How you live. I know that you are no warrior. This journey has been often painful for you, and for my part in that, again, I say,” he stopped and swallowed, hard “I have never been so wrong.” 

He bent his head over their hands a moment, resting his lips against her skin, and when he looked up at her once more, Billa was stunned at mingled regret and joy in his face. How had she ever thought him cold? 

“I cannot forget how you spoke to me…to us…promising your help to take back Erebor. So few have offered in all these years. I cannot forget standing on that rock, looking at you, after fire and battle and flight, your face smooth and shining in the sunset, not boasting of your own feats, but simply glad that I was well. In the face of such kindness, such bravery, such _forgiveness_ , how could I not lose my heart? You have quite stolen it from me, little burglar. I did not think to speak of it, not yet, but today, rising from the river, your skin again shining in the sunset, a rare and beautiful pearl....” 

Thorin kissed her palm again, this time long and lingering, and again higher, on the bend of her wrist, his beard a rough silk rasp, breath warm against her skin. Billa arched her hand without a thought, as if to offer him the tender skin at her pulse, and shivered, a tiny sound escaping her lips. He stood immediately, hovering protectively over her. 

“You are cold.” 

Billa, dazed, thought about it and shook her head slowly, “No.” 

Something in his face dimmed. “I have frightened you.” He shifted to step back and Billa reached for him, her hand tangling briefly in the fall of hair at his shoulder as she reached up to cup his cheek. “No,” she whispered, watching his eyes slip closed at her touch. “Well, yes, this is all completely terrifying, but no, Thorin.” 

The moment she said his name, he inhaled sharply, leaned his cheek into her hand and made a heart-melting sound. Billa shivered again, a flash of heat warming her from head to toe. Thorin opened his eyes slowly and looked down at her. “You still shiver.” 

“Mm,” she agreed absently. 

He stood there, eyes intent on hers, and drew one hand up her arm, lightly, pushing the sleeve up as far as it would go, then let his hand drift to her shoulder. His thumb caressed one wing of her collarbone, gentle and utterly maddening. “And yet again,” he murmured, his voice husking lower. Billa, still shaking, nodded somewhat ruefully. 

“You stand here,” he whispered, voice deeper still. “Ankle deep in a river.” One hand caressed her head, “hair still damp.” The other a warm curve at her waist, “shift clinging to your wet skin.” He shifted closer, “in the ever-lowering sunlight.” He lifted the hair tangling at her neck and bared one ear, his finger tracing over the point, “Shivering, and insist you are neither cold nor afraid.” 

Billa swallowed, ”Not.” 

“Does this mean, then, pearl of the evening,” he whispered, bending low, his mouth brushing her ear. "That you tremble. For me.” 

“Yes,” she breathed. 

He pressed his forehead to hers, and suddenly, she realized, the hands holding her were also trembling. “You consent to my courtship?” he rasped, nearly breathless. 

Something incredibly fierce and tender seemed break in Billa’s chest, and her eyes blurred with incredulous, joyful tears. “Yes, you majestic idiot.” 

A dry bark of laughter and he pulled her into the circle of his arms, “Majestic idiot?”

“It’s _your_ idea to court me because you find me irritating.”

“ _And_ beautiful _and_ rare and braver than I ever expected.” 

“Not to mention that bit about seeing me naked.” 

Hissing through his teeth, he pressed her closer into the curve of his body, one hand cradling the back of her head tenderly, the other low and tight at the base of her spine. She swayed against him, trembling anew as his lips grazed the side of her neck. 

"If I kiss you now," he groaned, "I may not be able to stop. "

She laughed and shook and beat her fist against his shoulder. "I will march into that forest for an oak branch," she promised, her voice wavering, "and I will hit you with it if you _don't._ "

He pulled back and looked at her, gravely joyful, more beautiful than the evening stars beginning to shine above them. "Billa. My pearl."

"Yes," she replied, reaching up, and pulled his mouth to hers.


	2. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing bits! Honestly, they would not let me go until I wrote the kiss, which is why the chapter begins here. Hopefully that's not too jarring. 
> 
> In addition, telling the company, things that need to be talked about, and rituals to be observed.
> 
> Also: hairdos.

~~~

Thorin's mouth was warm, and he kissed her so carefully; softly kissing her upper lip, sucking at her lower, turning his head as if to find just the right angle before slowly pressing a kiss at the corner of her mouth that just, it was just...a hinting bit of tongue, an inquiry that was just _so_.... 

That tender, fierce feeling within Billa surged again, and she tangled her hands in his hair and tugged, needing him closer. He inhaled sharply against her mouth and this time kissed her deeply, possessively, until she was whimpering and clutching at him for balance. They were pressed so close she could feel Thorin harden against her belly and she moaned, yearning to be closer and vaguely shocked by her boldness. She could not tell which of them trembled more. 

“Billa,” he whispered between gentling kisses, easing her away, “Billa. I will not join with you on these wet rocks.” 

She shuddered hard and closed her eyes, “Right, that’s probably. Right.” 

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, lingering beside the corner of her mouth where he'd placed that lovely kiss. “I wish to honor you, my pearl. For every slight, a kindness.” 

“Thorin, there’s no need for...”

“There is to me. And I need you to be sure this is, I am, what you want.” 

“Thorin!”

He took her hand and placed it over his heart. “Dwarrow give their hearts but once, Billa. I would not have you say yes in haste and us both be the poorer for it later.” 

Billa frowned. “You want _me_ to be sure. Not _us_ to be sure.” 

He looked at her for a long moment. “Yes, little burglar.” 

She clenched her hand in his shirt, suddenly, swiftly furious. “You mean to say that if I had said no to your courtship, you, you, you would have _never_...?”

He shrugged. “A political marriage, possibly, but not for love. A business arrangement. Little other reason to marry someone whose heart has been given elsewhere." 

“You could have warned me!”

“How?” 

“I don’t…” Her eyes pricked with indignant tears and it made her even angrier. “I would never do such a thing to you! I would never entertain the idea…never agree, never toy, never _kiss_ you if I didn’t think you had more than half my heart already, I would never!” 

“I have this courtship backwards,” Thorin said, pained. “Billa, I apologize. This is not fair to you. I should not…”

“Oh, yes, you should have, and you’re not backing out of it now, Thorin Oakenshield. You are courting me fair and proper!” She crossed her arms with a firm nod, and then as a breeze caught her, shivered. 

“ _That_ is cold.” 

“That _is_ cold.” 

He opened his arms and she burrowed close for a moment. “Come,” he said, keeping one arm around her as he scooped up their things. “Let’s make way to the fire before it gets much darker.” He handed her their belongings and picked her up easily. She gave him a look – she was perfectly capable to walking to shore – and instead of rolling his eyes, he gave her a such a falsely innocent and bewildered look that said clearly, “I was helping!” that she buried a smile in his shoulder.

As her feet touched the shore, she tugged on his sleeve. “I am perfectly fine with backward,” she said softly, but firmly. “As long as we are backward together. I do not know how dwarves court.” 

He smiled, covering her hand with his own, his eyes warm. “Nor I, hobbits.” 

“Great loads of kissing,” Billa replied pertly, feeling mischievous.

“Hm.” He kissed her hand and stepped away. “Wait for me here.” His voice held a touch of his usual command, and she found, to her amusement, that it caused her to flush from breast to belly. She pressed her hands to her cheeks and shook her head. No hobbit had ever made her feel like _that_.

By the time he returned to her, she was dressed and fussing a bit with her hair, having forgotten her comb with the rest of her pack. Thorin reached to still her hand. 

“It’s still quite damp,” he said in that low, tender voice she was beginning to love. “After dinner, may I braid it for you, Miss Baggins?” 

She smiled up at him. “This is part of courtship?”

“To show you have accepted my suit, yes. And I shall have a braid, too, proclaiming it.” 

“May I do that?”

“I am counting on it,” he said, soft and low. Billa shivered and clutched his hand. He turned her palm up and kissed it. 

“I am choosing to believe that you remain cold,” Thorin said huskily, watching her quiver like a plucked harpstring. “I dare not ask otherwise.” 

“Probably best,” Billa squeaked. “Yes. Dinner. Braids.” 

He tucked her hand in his elbow, and they slowly made their way to camp under the rising moon. 

“I relish the fire between us, my pearl,” he said softly. 

“As do I.” 

“And you do not mind if we revel in it, this courtship, despite my backwards start?” 

Billa leaned against him, “No. Braids should have come first, then?”

“I should have given you a gift, first.” 

“I should have made you dinner. I will soon.” 

As they reached the edge of the firelit camp, she slipped her hand from under his arm. He caught it, and kissed the back of it in full view of the company. Fili and Kili immediately let out whoops and Kili slapped Fili on the shoulder. “I knew it!” he crowed. Ori, nearest to Billa, smiled at them shyly and nudged Dwalin, who was sharpening his ax at Ori's side. 

Balin raised his eyebrows, “I see we did not need to worry you drowned the burglar then yourself, Thorin,” he said tartly, though his smile was warm. 

Thorin glared at everyone. “It is our business.”

“And ours, too,” Balin replied mildly. “In such a small company, my king.” 

Thorin nodded, but before he could speak, Billa cleared her throat. “We are courting,” she said firmly, holding Balin’s gaze steadily. “I know how serious that is for your people. For me, as well.” Thorin put his hand on her shoulder.

Balin smiled approvingly, and next to him, Gloin and Dori nodded, seeming satisfied. “And about time, too, thank Mahal,” Balin added. “Come to supper.” 

Thorin squeezed Billa's shoulder and she looked up at him. His smile was full of pride, and he squeezed her shoulder again as he walked towards his pack.

As he moved, Dwalin rose and thumped Thorin on the back, “I thought we would have to tie you together in a sack!” 

“Is that something dwarves do?” Billa hissed to Bofur, horrified, as she dug in her pack for her comb and eating knife. 

“Well, we do have the sacks from the trolls,” he replied, tongue firmly in cheek. “All washed up nice as you please.” 

Billa rolled her eyes at him. “Did everyone know how he felt but me?” she whispered.

“Lass, he’s been looking at you like you were an entire mine of mithril for a fortnight. Just like you look at him, when you think no one sees.” 

“I didn’t…I was glad…I just thought he was being a bit nicer. Since the orcs and eagles.” 

“His moods are grumpy, paranoid, grieving, murderous intent, and righteous fury. He’s never _nice_ ,” Bofur laughed. “Look at you, all flustered and blushing.” He gave her a friendly smack on the arm. “Go on, now, have your dinner. Make sure you sit on his left.” 

She looked a question at him. 

“So he can sweep you behind him, draw his sword and not cut of yer ear, if need be. Your privilege now, his right to protect you, not that he wouldn’t have before, but, mark my words, he and those old mother hens over there will like the old-fashioned touch.” 

“Oh,” she replied with a bit of a gulp. “Thank you, Bofur.” He just grinned. 

~~~ 

Billa didn’t remember much of dinner, other than the stew was thick and filling, and Thorin was a warm, solid presence at her side. She smiled her thanks at Bombur when she handed her bowl back and received a friendly wink in return. 

“You realize,” Balin observed, drawing out his pipe, “the teasing will start tomorrow. The lads are holding back tonight. In respect, of course.” He nodded at Billa. She nodded back her thanks.

“I am well aware,” Thorin sighed. “I believe Dwalin is sitting on my nephews, or has gagged them.” 

“Good for ‘em, sometimes,” Balin replied peacefully. 

Thorin chuffed a short laugh and stood, holding his hand out toward Billa. “Miss Baggins, if I may?” 

Taking his hand, she rose and was surprised to see a smaller fire yards away, next to a large cropping of rocks that would offer a bit of privacy. Fili and Kili were in the act of adding a bit more kindling and arranging Thorin’s bedroll nearby. Billa blushed to see her own pack and bedroll next to it, all still packed neatly. 

The young dwarves said not a word as Billa and Thorin approached, but their grins were as wide as their faces, and they bowed and offered the cozy arrangement extravagantly. Thorin bowed his head briefly in thanks and the boys melted away, but not before beaming Kili touched Billa’s arm lightly and whispered a very small, pert, “Welcome, Auntie.” 

Thorin growled, and the boys’ laughter followed them as they left. 

He swept off his outer coat, sat down and arranged himself, his back to the rock. Satisfied with his arrangements, he drew Billa down to settle between his outstretched legs facing away from him, not quite against his chest. He stroked lightly down the length of her hair. Billa closed her eyes. 

“How fare you, my pearl?” 

She smiled and hummed – there was that lovely note in his voice again – and turned to smile at him over her shoulder. “Very well, my dear, and you?” 

He smiled, a quick flash, and suddenly looked very young and pleased. “Dear,” he murmured, sounding as if he was savoring it. He stroked her hair again, crown to ends, and let his hand rest lightly on the small of her back. 

Billa turned a bit more, half-facing him. “All right?”

He smiled again, small and private. Billa blushed and they stared a one another a moment. 

“I have my comb,” she offered finally. 

“As do I,” he said, pulling out a beautiful thing of horn, inlaid with silver. “And I do have some gifts for you.” He drew out a small pouch and spilled a small river of beads into her hand. 

They gleamed in the firelight, gold and silver or mithril, complex and amazing, some studded with what had to be precious gems. “Thorin,” Billa half-protested, “these are so beautiful; far too fine for the likes of me.” 

“Nonsense,” he growled softly. “They were my mother’s, made by my father, and completely appropriate for courting.” Billa gazed back at her handful of treasure. 

Thorin leaned forward. “We will not use them all, not yet,” he explained, separating out a few beads. “My father made this clasp when he courted my mother, and these others.” He showed her the tube-shaped beads with gems of blue and milky white, the centers of flowers wrought in gold and silver metal. “Sapphire for the line of Durin. My mother’s family was from Moria, and mined moonstone and mithril. And I think the flowers entirely appropriate for a gardener.” 

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “Very appropriate.” 

“May I use these, then?” He waited for her nod and swept the other beads back into the pouch, leaving the ones they’d chosen in her hand. Billa looked at him, inquiring, and he wiggled the comb at her, motioning for her to turn around. 

She had not had her hair combed for her since her mother died, and Billa had forgotten the pure bone-deep pleasure in the slow strokes and soft touches. Thorin was gentle, teasing out knots patiently, and when they were all tamed, he combed the whole fall of it with long, fluid strokes that had Billa swaying as he hummed and softly sang a few snatches of verse in what had to be Khuzdul, but his deep, smooth voice made the gutteral language sound beautiful. 

“What are you singing?” she asked as he tilted her head back and began selecting sections of hair to braid. 

“It is a song,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear, “of longing.” Billa swayed, making a soft sound as the longing flared in her, low and warm.

“The words?” 

“I think after our moment in the river, that might be unwise.”

Billa shivered and clutched at his knee for support. “You!” She turned to glare at him over her shoulder. “And now I will be thinking of it!” 

Thorin smiled, unrepentant and hot-eyed. He stroked her hair. “The braids, my pearl,” he said, huskily. “I would have you marked as mine.” 

Billa swallowed hard and turned her head. The air, somehow, crackled between them, and she felt glowing and molten in his hands. He set two braids with beads resting just below each temple, combed the front back like Fili's, wove it all to meet behind her head, and capped at the end with another bead. 

Silently, he turned her to curl between his legs, facing him, and wove one last braid next to her ear, like the ones he wore, staring into her eyes all the while. As he set the clasp at the end of it, Billa let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

After a moment, she had to look away from his intense gaze and stroked the ends of his long unbraided hair as it spilled across his chest. 

“I never would have imagined this,” she ventured softly. “Not in the slightest. First, I’ve never heard you speak so much in my life.” She darted a smile up at him, and Thorin huffed and clasped her loosely, his hands around her upper arms. “And I assumed that you were solely intent on reclaiming Erebor, and never something so frivolous as courting a hobbit, that you would always remain a stern and majestic warrior king. ” 

He drew breath to speak, and she put a stilling hand on his chest and addressed his breastbone, feeling shy. “When hobbits marry, it’s a comfortable life and seemed to me like a comfortable love, at least with the hobbits of my generation. And as much as I love my home and my books, simply to marry to be just as _comfortable_ as I was on my own didn’t sit quite right with me. My Tookish side, I suppose. And I was content to travel comfortably through my books.” 

“You lot came, and I wanted no part of it. But then you sang. Oh, my dear, that song. So much pain and fire, and the verses said going back for your gold, but I heard _‘home.’_ There was so much love in your voice. I saw a bit of your heart in that song and it was deep and strong and not comfortable at all. The next morning, my house was far too quiet. Comfortable was suddenly very unappealing.” 

He stroked her arms gently, eyes bright, clearly moved and still regretful for how he treated her before. 

She gave him a quiet grin, “You’re lucky I’m stubborn and learned to like a challenge.” 

“Pearl,” he whispered, loving and pained. 

“Forgiven, so hush, you,” she replied, tugging on his hair a bit, and leaned up to press a quick kiss to his mouth. 

Thorin caught her close and deepened the kiss, soft and slow. Billa rose on her knees to get nearer, until their mouths were even, and threaded her hands into the fall of his hair with the sigh of getting a longed-for treat. She could feel the curve of his smile against her mouth as he smoothed his hands up and down the length of her back, hands lingering at her hips before skimming back up, thumbs just barely brushing the sides of her breasts. She gasped, and Thorin answered her with a soft moan of his own, a great shudder running through his frame as he changed the slant of his lips against hers and the kiss grew suddenly, tantalizingly, and all too briefly hot. 

He broke away with a sigh and pressed his forehead to hers. “Hobbits indulge in great loads of kissing during courtship?” he asked shakily. “How?” 

“To be honest,” Billa answered, kissing his brow, his eyelids, his nose, “if hobbits kissed like you, courtships would be astonishingly brief. ” She regarded him mock-seriously. “Also there was a distinct lack of deep-voiced, long-haired adventurers in the Shire when I was a lass.” 

“For which I am fortunate.” 

“For which _I_ am fortunate,” Billa replied and kissed his nose again. “What am I to do with all this hair?” 

He reached into a pocket and handed her the now-familiar beads and clasp he wore, with the addition of one more long bead in jewels and colors to similar her own, but with far more mithril and flowers of moonstone set with sapphires. He threaded a few strands of his hair in one, showing her the cunning way to secure the beads. 

“That is so clever. Did your mother make this?” she asked, stroking the small flowers. 

He nodded and handed her the comb. When she shifted to rise, his hands were quickly on her waist, stilling her, his eyes suddenly very large and sorrowful. 

“I need to get up to comb your hair, Thorin,” she reminded him with a smile.

Somehow, his eyes became even larger. “You can do it well enough from here.”

“A great deal of it is on the back of your head.” 

He looked at her so mournfully, hands heavy at her waist. She laughed. “Kili looked just like that when Fili ate the last of the jam tart.” 

Thorin stroked that corner of her mouth. “I like watching your face in the firelight.” 

Swallowing hard, Billa nodded. Thorin pulled his hair over his shoulders and she sat on her heels to begin, carefully combing from the ends, then higher, rising on to her knees to reach behind him slightly to get at tangles along the back, and then spreading each side against his chest to perfect before kneeling up again to run the comb from crown to ends. She felt his eyes on her all the while, as heavy as a touch. 

At first, Billa found she could only glance at him briefly as she worked, because his gaze was so open and tender, so admiring. Between that and brushing against him as she worked caused her to quake deep inside, and her hands shook, fumbling the comb. He didn’t seem to notice her clumsy fingers but sat as still as stone beneath her ministrations, save for his eyes and the quickening of his breath. She grew bolder as the time neared to braid, and by the time she was combing the whole luxurious fall, she did so looking into his eyes. She glanced away only to section the hair she needed for his usual braids and wove each by touch, watching him watch her mouth, her body, her hair, her eyes. At last, she sat with only the courtship bead in her hand. He gently touched the braid hanging by her left ear, and understanding, she rose to prepare his. 

Billa’s mouth went dry at the change in Thorin’s expression as she claimed the hair for his courtship braid. Tenderness merged with fierce, wondering joy, and her breath began to hitch in concert with his, the tears pricking in her eyes matched by the ones she gazed into. By the time she reached the end of the braid, her hands were shaking so hard she had to look at what she was doing to finish, and he supported her, hands warm and soothing at her back, as the clasp snicked closed. 

“I had not thought to hope,” he whispered, husky and low, taking each hand to kiss her palms in thanks. “For many years.” 

Billa had to swallow twice before she met his gaze. “Nor I.” 

And then his mouth was on hers, his arms pulling her deep into his embrace, and this was the dearest kiss yet, seemingly fathomless with joy and want, wonder and laughter and not promising a comfortable hobbity kind of love, not at all. It broke wild for a few long moments, Billa gasping as Thorin devoured her mouth, his hands skimming her body from thigh to nape, just close enough to her breasts to make her keen with longing. All at once, he tore himself away, kissed her forehead, somehow dumped her gently into his bedroll and strode off toward the river. She heard a bit of splashing and pressed one shaking hand against her smile as she rooted through her things for her water bottle. Finding it, she took a long, calming drought. 

He was back a moment later, face damp and rueful. “Billa, I…”

“If you apologize I will have to smack you. We only get one courtship braids kiss and I think that might have been a very…ah…” She nearly lost her train of thought, watching a drop of water slide down his cheek. “Fine one.” 

He nodded his thanks and knelt near her. “If you trust me,” he said humbly. “I would be honored if you would sleep here tonight, near me.” 

Billa simply unbuckled her bedroll from her pack and held it out to him. He helped her rise and arranged things to his liking, then looked earnestly into her face. “I-I would have you close to my heart, if you’ll allow it.” 

She reached out to his cheek, “As is my right now, yes?” Thorin looked puzzled. “Bofur told me to always sit on your left, now.” 

He turned and kissed her palm, “It would be my privilege. And joy.” He helped her down into the blankets and furs of the pallet he made, tucked his great coat around them and drew her against his side. They lay there a few long moments, Thorin stroking her hair, tense as a board, as Billa looked up at the stars. 

“First evening of courting,” she whispered. Thorin leaned down to kiss the top of her head, his lips lingering. 

“This much passion between us,” she added, letting the words hang in the air. “And we might not _need_ a campfire.” 

She grinned at the first chuff of warm breath against her scalp, then curled her toes in delight as he relaxed and chuckled into her hair. “I nearly had to dump my water bottle over my head and you ran for the river!” He laughed harder, his shoulder quaking beneath her cheek. 

“Nearly scorched my braids with that last kiss,” he gasped, hugging her tightly. 

“What?” she poked him and prodded him and finally leaned up on one elbow. “I worked hard on those!” 

He reached for her, laughter gentling. “They are fine, my pearl, just fine. I will keep them well.” 

She gave him a grumble worthy of Grandmother Took to hear him chuckle again and curled against his chest. He stroked her hair in long, smooth strokes until she was as boneless as a cat. He hummed to her, soft and low. “What happens next?” Billa asked softly. “For dwarv-dwarrow, courting.” 

Thorin tensed slightly but continued to stroke her hair. “I have a confession. Our females are so rare; only one in three dwarrow, if that; of those who escaped Erebor; one in six. They may choose to marry, or not. There is no shame in not marrying for our people, many are satisfied with their craft and devote themselves to that.” He gave her a small squeeze. “Like you and your books and...burglary.” 

Billa snorted and swatted his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “I know that men may treat their women like trade items, a father selling his daughter for flocks or land, power or politics. That can happen with dwarrow, but normally, it is the female who opens formal courtship. If her intended agrees, they exchange personal gifts, and he gives a greater gift of precious metals and jewels to her family, treasure he has saved for a lifetime, not in payment, but in gratitude and honor. Then he courts her with many gifts, showing her his skills and ability to provide.” 

Billa hugged as much as of him as she could, lying curled beneath his arm. “And if he says no, she does not choose another. That sounds so lonely.” 

“We believe that there is one person who is the other half of us. It is not assured that the other half agrees. Many seek out comfort and companionship from time to time, but it is rarely of long duration. Without the heart involved... " he sighed. "So there is great joy when any find their One.” 

“You chose me.” 

He gathered her even closer to his heart and buried his face in her hair. “Not so much a choice, but a slow recognition. It is not usual but to do as I did, approaching you, but it does happen. I saw you in the sunset and could wait no longer to catch your eye as you had mine. I hoped…” 

Billa wiggled up until they were face to face. “Backwards,” she teased softly. I am glad.” He touched her cheek, his expression so tender. 

“Having accepted my gifts,” he said huskily, “I would make a home for you, again to show you my worthiness to provide for us, and you would make wedding clothes for signing the contract joining you to my house before our loved ones, but before that, your father or living family,” Thorin spoke faster and faster, his tension increasing, and he did not meet her eyes, ”They-they would have to approve of the home, and you would gather the small things of living, and…” 

Billa covered his lips with her hand. “What are you not telling me, my dear?” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. 

“There is another way we may wed.” She stroked his cheek and waited. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, the longing flared in her again, hot and joyful, and she could barely catch her breath. 

“You may invite me to your bed,” he told her, voice so low she could feel the rumble of it against her breast. “As a wife to her husband.” 

Her mouth went dry, and it took her several tries to speak. “Thorin,” she breathed, hands clutched in his shirt. Her eyes pricked with tears again with the force of her feelings. He saw them and immediately stroked her hand, her arm, frantic to soothe. 

“It cannot be your way, and I would never…no dwarf male would _ever_ ask to wed that way, but always show restraint and honor…”

“Hush,” she said. He stilled, his hands falling away from her and giving her as much space as he could with her head pillowed against his arm. Billa watched his face a long, long moment. He lowered his eyes. When she was ready, she reached out to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing over the arch of his cheekbone. His expression was dimmed, wary. 

“I have my own confession,” she said firmly. “There was a reason why I asked what came next. Hobbits give gifts of flowers and food, they take walks, he leaves his family and builds a home, she fills a glory box of linens and quilts, clothes and silverware. They plant a garden together, then give a party after it’s harvested. Two gardeners in a plot and two cooks in a kitchen sort out the problems quite nicely. More than one courtship has ended in a brawl over tomato plants or seating charts. If the party goes well, that night is the wedding, or perhaps the next morning if the couple disappears during dessert.” Thorin sucked in a sharp breath and looked at her with wide eyes.

“I don’t need a garden or glory box or gifts. We’ve walked farther than I’ve ever been, roads more challenging than any Shire path, and there were times when we couldn’t stand each other, but that bit didn’t take. I suppose saving each other’s life does that. Thorin, the way you look at me, and touch me. These last few weeks, today, you have treated me like I am someone,” she tried not to flinch as her voice broke, “someone to be treasured. Before, I was drawn to you, but now I cannot, cannot look away; I see who you are, the king you want to be. I dearly want to know more. I asked, Thorin, because after tonight, pearls and beads and braids, the fire between us and the you way speak to me from your heart; I already feel more than a bit married.” 

“Billa,” he said, his own voice cracking, soft and full of wonder. 

She took his hand and kissed palm. “Thorin Oakenshield. If you will have me, I give you my heart. Every bit of it.” 

He swallowed hard and reached out to touch her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, with an unsteady hand. “I would weave your hair with pearls and sapphires, though your face would outshine them both. I would put you in the best rooms of Erebor, and I would make us the finest bed, solid and warm with furs and soft linens, not this hard ground.”

“Thorin. We can wait if you wish. But know,” she whispered to hide her voice’s shaking. “I just want my husband to come to bed.” 

Closing his eyes, he leaned forward to roll his forehead against hers, breathing deeply, and they lay there a long, trembling moment. 

“I thought you comely but soft and foolish when I first saw you,” he whispered hoarsely into the space between them. “I see you now through wakened eyes, tempered, generous, brave and even more beautiful. My heart opened to yours. I longed for you. Today when you rose from the water, when you gave me my braids, I thought I could not want you more.” His breath became ragged and he clutched at her arm as if for balance. 

“I was wrong. My skin aches to touch yours. I want your hair falling around my face as we kiss. I wish to hold you, to weigh you in my hands from breast to thigh. And oh, I want to hear your voice cry out in pleasure. 

“Thorin,” she gasped, clutching at his sleeve. 

“Not yet,” he replied, voice shaking, and kissed her forehead. “Not quite yet, my pearl. Please. Give me a day. Give this prideful dwarf a day to...I wish to...I promise you...” 

She tugged on his braids. “Agreed,” she whispered, “but you need to stop saying such....um.” Billa squirmed a bit and cleared her throat. “Would you mind fetching my water bottle? Perhaps with some very cold water in it? I find myself in...need of a cooling draught before bed...b-before I sleep.” 

Thorin relaxed into a chuckle and kissed her forehead with a smack. “As you wish, my pearl.” 

As he drew away from her, he whispered, eyes intent on hers, “Thank you.” 

~~~  
They sat side by side, backs to the rock, feet warming by the fire, trading Billa’s water bottle back and forth. Thorin suddenly groaned and shook his head. 

“What?” 

He took her hand with the air one one bracing himself to speak. “Backwards," he explained, his eyes downcast. Billa ached to see him struggle and kissed his knuckles for encouragement. He returned the gesture and took a deep breath. "Tell me you’re willing to live in Erebor.” 

“It would be a bit awkward to travel back and forth between there and Bag End,” she pointed out gently. “Especially with you being king and all.” 

His chuckle sounded painful as he threw his head back toward the sky, his throat working. “You’re willing to give up your home,” he said roughly, his voice choked to smallness."Your beloved home. You speak of it so fondly, and I saw it was well-tended and enjoyed." 

Billa swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. “I will miss it, but I’ve been given to understand that if we do this thing right, home will be where you are. Wherever that might be.” 

He wrapped one arm around her and pressed kiss after kiss to her hair. “Billa. Pearl.” 

“I’ll give Bag End to my favorite cousin, I suppose, but I will want to go back and get my books and things,” she added, and his laughter was lighter. 

“Handkerchiefs,” he drawled. She pinched his leg. 

“They’re useful!” His chuckle turned into a snicker, and he stayed, nose in her hair. He seemed to be inhaling the scent of it, and Billa smiled, charmed. 

“Will there be a place for me to do a spot of gardening?” 

“My grandmother had a terrace garden. It may need much work if it survived.” 

“Not afraid to get my hands dirty.” She leaned against his shoulder and drowsed a bit as he stroked her arm. 

“Children?” he murmured. 

“Hmm?” 

“Would you...do you want children?” 

“Can hobbits and dwarves?”

“I do not know.” 

“Oh. Well. I may be getting a bit old for that at 50, but....” something small and warm curled in her heart. “I think I would like that very much.” 

“As would I,” Thorin replied, voice husky. “Though if we cannot,” he added hesitantly, “Fili is already heir to the throne.” 

“Right. Throne. Oh my goodness. You’re going to be king, which means I’m going to be a...a...”

“Queen?”

She turned and buried her face in his shoulder. “I had not thought of that at all. I’m not used to courts and grandeur. I’m just a simple hobbit. 

“Hardly that, my pearl.” 

“Oh my goodness.” 

Thorin tipped her face up and kissed her gently. “Shhh. It will be well, Billa. There will be much to rebuild at first. Hardly a formal court. We shall grow into it. Think of it as marrying a blacksmith of excellent family, one with extensive administrative and military duties.” 

“A blacksmith. Who marches about in a velvet coat, gems and furs. A blacksmith king.” 

“Yes. Of a sort. If it helps.” 

“You’re trying so very hard for it to help, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said shortly. “I cannot help who I am.” 

“Nor do I ask you to excuse it, my dear, please," Billa looked into his face in sincere earnest. "It’s just nerves. I will grow into it,” she assured him, and burrowed into his embrace for a long while. “Blacksmith,” she murmured, growing drowsy again. “Is that where all those lovely muscles came from?” 

He leaned back enough blink at her, brows raised. She returned his look contritely and and bit her lip. 

“At the river, I, um, forgot to turn my back for...a long while.” She chewed her lip worriedly. “Rather rude of me.” 

Thorin’s sly smile was tempered by blush. “How long?” he asked, his voice caressingly low. His thumb traced where she’d bitten her lower lip. 

Billa cast her eyes down, her cheeks burning. “To be honest, I didn’t realize I was staring until you put on your shirt.” 

He made a deep, approving sound that made Billa lean into him. “I please you, then?” he asked. 

She looked up at him with a breathtakingly frank expression of desire, and as she opened her mouth to reply, Thorin swept in to soothe his tongue over her reddened lip and press inside. She melted, sighing into his mouth. He only allowed himself two kisses, reveling a bit in the fact that he’d learned well enough to know if he pressed a just bit deeper, Billa would make some soft sound of desire or shiver in his arms. His will could only take so much.

Billa trembled anyway as he indulged himself in tugging on that sweetly swollen lip as he withdrew, and he swallowed hard, grasping at his fraying composure. 

“Apparently I am pleased at your lack of manners,” he murmured against her mouth, and felt her smile. “I may have to journey to the river again,” he confessed, and Billa stifled a laugh. “Or you could dump the remains of the water bottle on my head?” 

This time, she laughed aloud, and pushed at his chest. “Terrible idea for our bedding. Besides, it’s empty.” She offered it to him. 

“At this moment,” he declared, “I am glad of your practical nature.” He gathered the bottle and stood. 

“And other moments?” she asked, eyes gleaming with humor. 

He could feel his grin grow wide and wolfish. “We will discuss that tomorrow evening.” 

She heaved a great sigh, hand at her heart, and smiled at him, glowing softly in the firelight. 

“When I return, we are going straight to sleep,” he said sternly. 

“Yes, dear,” she agreed, not very meekly at all.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may note that there's a mix of "dwarf" and "dwarrow," which Billa's trying to get right. I struggled with it, but Tolkien says "dwarrow" is the plural of "dwarf."
> 
> Tolkien patterned dwarrows in part on Jewish culture, and the courtship and marriage customs come from their history. 
> 
> I am truly bowled over with how many folks have read so far, and many many thanks for your kind comments. Over 1250 hits in a _day_. Mercy. THIS must be what it's like to be in a very active fandom. ::grins::
> 
> This is the part where I issue a disclaimer that I do not own these characters and intend no copyright infringement.


	3. Earth and Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating's changed, dear readers! 
> 
> Many thanks to to gnomi and to mynuet for additional beta duties. If you're not reading her [The Mediator,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/779298/chapters/1467271) you really should.

~~~

She woke alone, but with the gift of blue-centered white flowers in a rough nosegay next to her head. Inhaling their scent, she twined a few in her hair as she made her way to breakfast. 

The camp was aflutter with activity. Apparently, some rabbits and what must be a deer had been caught, and Bifur was happily preparing some meat to be smoked, and leaving some out to be some cooked fresh. Bombur seemed to be making some of his delicious bread, and Bofur was constructing a drying rack to hang over the fire, whistling merrily as he whittled. 

Yards downwind, Dwalin was carefully scraping the deer hide, wearing nothing but his britches, arms covered with tattoos. Dori and Nori were muttering and sorting over furs that had been gathered along the way from rabbits, wolves and those odd long-bodied things that everyone had deemed too stringy to eat again, but their fur was incredibly soft. 

Near to the bend in the river, Billa could hear Kili and Fili splashing about, apparently washing after their successful hunt. Oin, Gloin, and Thorin were nowhere to be seen. 

Balin and Ori offered her smiles as they huddled over something Balin was dictating to Ori. As she drew near, Ori reached out for a bowl near the fire, covered and kept warm for her. Balin poured her a cup of tea. 

“Some breakfast for you,” Ori offered with a sweet smile, and Billa smiled her thanks in return. 

“I can’t believe I slept through all this bustle.” Ori blushed mightily and Balin chuckled. 

“I am saying absolutely nothing about being kept up late into the night,” Balin said primly, though his eyes twinkled. “Though I think we have you to thank for a few days rest.”

“A few days? No one seems to be resting much.”

“Well, we dwarves always like to have a bit to do, and what we want to do is hunt and gather a few more provisions than the vegetables and and stuff we got from that skinchanger. And we might need a few more hides and skins for warmth as we get closer to Erebor. From all accounts, the closer we get to Mirkwoord, the less likely we'll find as much bounty off the land.” 

“That makes sense. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Ori spoke up. “You’re supposed to do...um...bride things?”

Billa gave him a look. “I hardly have time to tat a veil. Nor do I have the yarn to do so.”

“Is tatting those fine little flower-shaped things in your house? Those were very nicely done.”

Billa smiled, not knowing any of them had noticed during the furor of the dinner party. “Thank you, the doilies, yes. That’s tatting.”

“I don’t have the yarn either. I got a bit more winter weight stuff from Beorn.” He brightened. "I might have a book or two in Westron if you’d like to read.” 

“I might at that,” Billa answered gratefully, and bent to her breakfast. 

As she ate, Balin asked her a few questions about her life in the Shire, her family, her full name and why was she called Billa and not Belladonna.

“My family called me Bella, but when I was little, my cousin Primula, who is like a sister to me, called me Billa and it stuck.” She smiled gently at the elder scribe, “It’s well enough known in the Shire that I’ve signed other legal documents with it and it’s been just fine. ”

Balin gave her a shrewd look. “You’ve guessed we’re writing out a marriage contract.” 

“I thought you might be. It makes sense. Thorin’s not just some country lad on a ramble. And despite appearances, I am not a simple country lass. I am a hobbit of some property.” 

“Thank Mahal you’re practical, with what we’re trying to do.” he said shortly. “First of all, Thorin told you of the ways we wed?” 

“Yes, gifts, contract or...” Billa swallowed hard, mortified. 

Balin cleared his throat loudly. “Exactly,” he said, rescuing her. “A practical lass such as yourself, I think, would see the importance of a king having a bit more than a kiss and a promise. To have things hammered out for state reasons before your evening together.”

“Of course. I think that’s wise. I admit I really don’t think of Thorin as a king, first. I mean he is one, of course, that’s always been quite clear, it’s just that I...it’s not the first thing I think of, you see. When I think of him. Oh, this is quite the most embarrassing business meeting I’ve ever had.” She closed her eyes tightly and clapped both hands to her cheeks. “Is it possible for one’s face to catch fire from blushing?” 

Taking a deep breath, she buried said face in her cup of tea, and when she was composed, Ori cleared his throat and offered her his sweetest smile. “I’m proof that it can’t, Miss Baggins. I’ve tried, I really have.” 

“Oh, Ori. Bless you.” 

He ducked his head, then popped up again, pointing at his flushed cheeks. “Look! Safe as can be.” Billa laughed with him, grateful for a moment’s ease. 

“Well,” Balin said kindly, “If I can drag us back to the matter at hand, and pardon me for adding to your blushes, Miss Baggins, I cannot be happier to hear you how you regard my friend and king.” Billa let him see how much that meant to her, gritting her teeth against the prickling of tears, and Balin shuffled through papers a bit before clearing his throat loudly. Twice. “State matters aside, Thorin is quite clear he wants to provide for you should anything befall him.” 

“I really don’t need it, Balin,” she replied, though the stubborn lump in her throat. “Just get me home safely, should...” She pressed her lips together tightly.

“Aye, lass,” Balin said, his voice warm. “Even so. We should do this all properly. And he wants you to have his mother’s sapphires, should we be able to find them, and all pearls that might be found. All of them.” 

Billa let out a watery snort of laughter and had to cover her mouth with her hand. “Honestly,” she huffed, and had to close her eyes against the sweetness of the gesture. “I just want...” she couldn’t finish, voice choked to nothing.

“In all my years,” Balin said, “not since we left Erebor, had I thought to see him with such lightness of heart. He’s spent his life in grief and loss and responsibility, willing to die for his people, his family, and to get that dragon out of our home. But you’ve given him something to live _for_ , Belladonna Baggins, and for those of us that love him, we’d, to a man, heap every pearl of the sea on your head.” 

Billa took a few shaky breaths and wiped her eyes. “In that case, if we’re making this both a contract and a will, I want to add a few things should something happen to me.”

Apparently she’d said just the right thing, for both scholars beamed at her, and if Ori looked a bit damply red-eyed, well, it must be the wood-smoke. 

Once they were all satisfied with the document, Ori shooed them both away to make a fair copy. Balin poured Billa another cup of tea and set about filling his pipe. 

“This...thing tonight,” he said, halting a bit. “We’re to bring you to what Thorin’s put together to stand in for the home he wants to give you in Erebor.”

“Yes, he mentioned something like that. That my family would have to approve of it before I could go in, and then come back to lead me there.” 

“Well,” he said, gruffly. “I’d like to offer my services in that regard, seeing as you’ve no kin about.”

It knocked the breath out of her. “Balin,” she replied when she was sure she could speak without her voice wavering. “That is so very dear of you. I would be honored.”

He patted her hand and gave an almighty sniff. “Honor would be mine,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Besides, I can take the contract to him.” 

“If you say nice things and make me tear up again this evening, I shall put nettles in your bedroll. I get horribly blotchy and my nose swells like a tomato when I cry.”

He choked a laugh around his pipe and Billa thumped him on the back a few times, grinning. 

“Oh you’ll do fine, lassie. I promise to be as gruff as can be.”

Leaving him to his pipe, Billa went to freshen up, and mulled over what she might do to present at least a tidy figure for the evening. She pulled out the blue shift, skirt and bodice she’d brought, sturdy, but a bit finer than the walking ensemble she wore now, and once Kili and Fili were out of the river and dressed, she went down to moisten one of her makeshift handkerchiefs (made from a torn shirt), dampened the wrinkles enough to smooth them out, and hung them on a branch in the sun to dry. 

Not quite ready to lapse into idleness, she slipped into the forest with Bofur, Fili and Kili, who were heading back to wherever Thorin was. They steered her clear of the direction they were heading, and suggested she stay nearer where she’d bathed the previous evening. Grumbling at them for a bit of a teasing show, she obeyed, and was rewarded with wild onions, mushrooms, and the best prize of all, raspberries. 

There wasn’t quite enough to share with the whole company, so Billa gathered tied them up in a clean handkerchief as possible a treat for dinner with Thorin tonight. 

She found she missed him, as she walked the path they’d traveled last night back to the camp. She was to be married, she thought with a yet another blush, thinking of the night to come. Probing at her heart, confirmed her conviction this was the husband she wanted, gruff warrior and majestic king, fierce caretaker and secretly tender heart. And yes, she did truly feel near enough to married already to an imposing, achingly handsome dwarf. Her mother would quite approve of the fine figure he cut, the daring adventure they were on, and possibly the scandalous haste of their marriage. 

Wild Belladonna Took had loved Billa’s father fiercely, had a whirlwind courtship, for hobbit standards, forgoing the traditional dinner and throwing a large party in the middle of summer, the moment Bag End was completed, too impatient and uncaring of tradition to wait for their garden’s full harvest. 

Home had been filled with Belladonna’s laughter and the stories of her adventures, which gentle Bungo Baggins relished with beaming pride. Mother was never quite the same after he passed. Yes. She would be laughing in delight to know her daughter also learned to love fiercely, and teasing her for running to adventure with a handsome dwarf after hearing him sing.

Billa presented Bombur with the spoils of her ramble and asked if the berries could be set aside for dessert with Thorin that evening, then begged him to let her help prepare lunch.

“Please. I need to do something.” 

With a smile, Bombur shuffled to the side of the rock surface where he was paring potatoes, and handed her a knife.

After lunch, entirely at loose ends, she begged a book from Ori and tried to read it. She could tell they were quite fine verses, she could absorb that much, but Billa found that she couldn’t quite make the whole thing hang together, staring in abstraction at one line for minutes at a time, thinking how lovely it felt to sleep with Thorin’s arms around her. How his beard scraped so deliciously at the tender skin of her wrist yesterday, in the river. The surprising softness of his hair, and the generosity of his kisses. Yes. Far too distracted to read. 

She contemplated making a wreath out of wildflowers for her hair, but couldn’t quite figure out how to do that and not obscure the beads at her temples that Thorin had given her. Hiding them seemed rather opposite to having the beads in the first place.

Desperate for activity, Billa took another bit of a ramble in the woods, had a splash in the river to wash off the resulting sweat (after telling Dwalin where she’d be, well within shouting distance of his tanning project) and finally, mid-afternoon, she found a bit of shade and took a nap in sheer self-defense against nerves and boredom. 

She slept quite soundly, and about an hour before sunset, Balin, Dori, and Ori politely called to her, wondering if she’d like to wake, freshen up and look over the contract. 

Billa made sure to praise Ori for his fine hand, as the contract was as beautifully ornamented as any book of quality she’d seen, and she was impressed he’d done it all so quickly. The contract itself looked all in order. She signed it carefully, not wanting to mar Ori’s beautiful work, then watched in a haze as Dori and Balin witnessed the document. 

It struck her that not only did she feel very nearly married, she now _was_ very nearly married. With unexpected grief, Billa wanted her mother with her, then felt guilty she hadn't thought of her father, too. Shaken, she very carefully sat down on a rock to breathe deeply and look at the peaceful river. Suddenly, Bombur was there with another cup of tea and a scone. 

She took the snack gratefully. “I do think you must be part hobbit,” she murmured, and took another deep breath. “It’s not cold feet, you dear folk,” she said firmly. “Just. Doing a rather large thing. Had the same momentary reaction when I signed the other contract. Except this is. Much. Much bigger.” She drained her teacup in a swallow. Bombur offered her more, and when she shook her head, he gently put his hand on her shoulder.

Billa looked up. Bombur gave her a sweet smile and chucked her under the chin. When she smiled in return, heartened, he made a satisfied noise, took her teacup and trundled off. She felt another gentle touch on her shoulder, and found Ori had come stand beside her offering an encouraging nod. Bless him a hundred times. One more deep breath, and running a nervous hand over her hair, Billa said, “I suppose I should dress.”

Dori cleared his throat. “I’d like to offer a bit of ribbon if you’d be agreeable, and to help with your braids.” 

She looked at him in surprise and he assured her, “It’s completely proper, I think, as you have no family nearby to help.” 

“We’ve, um, warmed a rock and smoothed out some of the wrinkles in your dress, too,” Ori added. 

“That is so very sweet of you,” she said with a touched hiccup, her hand pressed to her heart. “I’d very much like the help.” She gave Balin a quelling look. “You didn’t warn them about saying or doing sweet things that might make me cry, did you?” 

“Right,” he said briskly, regarding the other dwarves. “None of that. She gets blotchy. Nose like a tomato. I’m off to see Thorin.” 

“Let us know when you’re ready, Miss Baggins,” Dori said. “We’ve left your dress over yon rock.”

It settled her somehow, to have help getting ready, Billa thought as she drew on her sun warmed clothes. It was a far cry from giggling girl cousins braiding one another’s hair with ribbons before parties, or her mother and father’s fond, laughing care, but welcome nonetheless. This band of gruff fellows, warriors and princes, merchants and scribes and miners, so different from her Shire family, had taken her in and were doing their best by her, for Thorin’s sake. It was humbling. 

Dori drew her near the campfire to comb and braid her hair, the others offering ever-more-complicated suggestions of style until Dori shushed them. “I’ll follow Thorin’s work, thank you very much,” he said tartly. “As suits her down to the ground, but a bit of Durin blue ribbon woven in will make a nice touch.”

Bofur took out his flute to play something soft and sweet as Dori worked, Bombur pressed a cup of mint tea in her hands, sweetened with a bit of honey, and Billa gave herself over to the pleasure of having her hair combed. 

Dori squeezed her shoulder as he finished. “There, lass.”

Billa looked up, a bit surprised to find her tea gone and the sun slanting lower in the sky, having sunk into a peaceful reverie while Dori worked. Balin, Kili, Fili and all the dwarves that had gone missing this morning were walking out of the woods, Fili picking twigs out of Kili’s hair, Kili trying to fight him off and do it himself. 

“You look really pretty, Miss Baggins,” Ori said, and offered her a small nosegay of the white flowers with blue centers, wrapped with the same ribbon as the ones Dori had woven in her hair.”

“Shining like the finest gold,” Bofur agreed, smiling broadly. 

Gloin mopped at his eyes with his beard. “Reminds me of me own lovely wife.”

Dwalin cuffed him on the back of the head, “Your wife has red hair and a beard!” 

Gloin protested that all brides had the same beauty on their wedding day over everyone’s laughter, and then Balin was standing before her, his hand out to help her rise. 

“It’s time, lass, if you’ll be so kind as to come?” He tucked her hand into his elbow and drew her into the forest. 

The slanting sun glowed through the leaves, and the evening crickets and frogs began their song. Balin led her on a newly trod path up a gentle but rocky slope. Behind her, the rest of the company began to sing a low, sweet song in their own language. 

“Oh, that’s beautiful!” Billa cried softly. “What is it?”

Balin cleared his throat. “Well, hmm. Normally your family would have a song written to announce your arrival to your husband’s hall. We weren’t quite in agreement on which song, since we didn’t have time to really do justice to a new one, so this one is about good wishes, and dreams and...”

“You’re singing a lullaby?” Utterly charmed, she hugged his arm.

He glanced back at the company repressively. “Much more appropriate than some other suggestions.”

Nearly at the crest of a hill, Billa realized they’d found a cave, and almost laughed aloud with joy because, _of course_ a cave, and then she saw what they’d done to it. 

The cave floor had been swept clean and rushes were scattered to ease the chill and keep down the dust. They’d made time to fix a few torches securely to the walls. A ledge held a new-hewn stone slab bearing meat and cheese and two of Bombur’s new-baked loaves, a dish of oil, and her raspberries. There were flowers simply everywhere. 

Deeper inside, Billa could see a small gap leading to another well-lit chamber, and a pallet covered in furs. A shadow moved within that room, and then Thorin was ducking through the doorway, dressed in a simple half-laced shirt of deep blue and soft pants, his feet bare. His eyes sought hers, and her heart leapt. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said in greeting, just as he was saying, “Welcome.” Everyone laughed and Thorin smiled one of those quick, devastating smiles and ducked his head shyly. 

“It’s so very beautiful,” Billa said again, and turned her head to look at the whole company, willing herself not to embarrass them all by crying. “You lot. Romantics all of you.” 

“Oi!” protested Nori. Most laughed, and there were a few suspicious sniffles, but Billa made sure not to look too hard. 

“I’d kiss you all, but I’m not about to go to my betrothed with beard burn,” she continued, and waited for the many mock-disappointed cries to die down. “So I will simply say thank you. I think this, and this day, is quite the kindest thing...” Billa stopped, a sudden, large lump in her throat.

“Oh, now,” Balin patted her hand. “Don’t start or they’ll start bawling and douse the torches, and how will we get back to camp?”

Billa looked at him. “Your excellent dwarrow night vision? Also the sun hasn’t quite set.”

“Don’t trouble with me details, pert miss.”

“Fine,” she grinned, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She looked back at her friends. “I will never forget your kindness to me, to us, today. Wherever I am, know that each of you is always welcome in my home and at my table. Always. Thank you.” 

“Even with the way we treat your dishes?” Kili called cheekily. Billa gave him a stern look and raised her eyebrows. 

“You’re to be family soon, they’ll be your heirlooms, too.” 

When the laughter died down, Balin cleared his throat. “All right, lads, time for us to get our supper and find our spots for the night. Thorin won’t thank us to linger much longer.” 

Most smiled and called their goodnights, but a few remained to speak to Billa. Bofur, his eyes twinkling, kissed her hand. 

“I’m glad I wished the best for you, back there before the goblins, Miss Baggins. And that you stayed with us.” Billa laughed and kissed his cheek. 

Next, Kili and Fili hugged her on both sides. “Never seen him so happy,” whispered Fili. Kili tugged her betrothal braid, agreeing, “It’s true, _Auntie_.”

“Oh, you!” She swatted at Kili, much to his delight, then hugged them back. “Thank you.” 

As they sidled over to say something to their uncle, Dwalin loomed over her. He took her hand and made a most unexpectedly graceful bow. “What you said earlier, with your thanks. Sounded like a queen, my lady.” 

“Oh, Dwalin, I...”

Balin touched her back lightly. “Aye, a good one.” Dwalin kissed her hand and looked beyond her to salute Thorin. 

“Be near enough, should you have need.” He strode off, and Balin tucked her hand in his elbow once more. Billa took a long, unsteady breath. 

“All right, lass?” Balin whispered. 

“Yes. So happy. Little nervous.” He chuckled and patted her hand. 

“I’ll tell you a secret; so’s he.” 

Billa smiled her thanks, and as they turned to Thorin, she caught his intense gaze and her heart leapt anew. She was lucky Balin guided their steps the short way to the cave threshold, because she was simply unable to look where she was going. 

“Belladonna Rosamund Baggins, I stand your family, who cherished the gift of a daughter. Thorin Oakenshield, who would also cherish you, has made a shelter, a pale shadow of what he wishes to offer you, for you to take your ease this night. If this pleases you, will you enter?”

“I will.”

Thorin extended his hand to her in welcome, a small smile gracing his lips. Balin placed Billa’s hand in Thorin’s and covered them with both his own. 

“I wish you both every good thing.” He looked them both over with a satisfied air, and started to turn away. 

Billa caught Balin’s sleeve and reached up to hug his neck. “We could not ask for a better friend,” she whispered. “Grandfather Balin.”

“Oh, now,” he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, his voice rough. “More like elder second-cousin, but I’ll take it. Good night, the both of you.”

“Good night, old friend,” Thorin replied. 

As Balin left, Billa could feel Thorin watching her, as he’d done the previous evening, and as before, Billa could not quite raise her eyes to his, this time struggling with both gratitude and shyness. Instead, she turned the hand she was holding and kissed his palm. 

“Oh my dear, what a lovely, lovely thing you have done,” she whispered. “You and the company.” 

He drew her closer, and caressed her cheek, thumb gentle at the corner of her mouth. “I am glad it pleases you.” They stood there, her clinging to his hand, him stroking her face for a long moment. “Will you not look at me, my pearl?”

“I seem to have found a head full of nerves,” she replied unsteadily, turning her cheek into his palm. “I think, I think I should...” She took a step and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding tight. She gave a great sigh as he arms came around her. “That’s better.” 

“Billa,” Thorin said, concerned, as he stroked her hair. “You’re trembling.”

“Happy,” she replied firmly. “So happy and a little chilly and...rather nervous.” 

“Last night...you...”

“I’ve not seen you all day,” she blurted, then took a deep breath and said bravely, “I’ve never invited...really never more than the kisses and cuddles we had last night...never wanted...I have read about the way of it, but haven’t...” She stopped, horrified when he tensed up, and leaned back to look at him, “But I want this, truly. With you. It’s just. Right this minute. Nerves.” 

He kissed her forehead. “I am a seven times a fool for not asking.”

She patted his chest. “No, no. Last night, we were quite... You were so lovely and it was perfect. It was every bit wonderful. Give me a moment to get used to being close to you again.”

“You know we needn’t do a thing but sleep and have a bite to...” 

She wrapped her arms around him again and hugged him tight. “I know,” she sighed, shuffling closer and they stayed wrapped around one another for a few long breaths.

“I like feeling how warm you are without all those layers,” she hummed, and nuzzled aside a bit of his shirt to rest her face against his skin. He made a pained sound and tucked her closer.

“Billa, your nose is freezing. Come in by the fire.” 

“That sounds lovely.”

Thorin took both her hands and backed into the cave, smiling at her so sweetly, she couldn’t help offer a small grin back. He drew her into the interior chamber, where he’d created braziers out of roughly hollowed stone near the pallet. He looked a question at her, making sure she was all right with sitting on the pallet and she rolled her eyes at him. He gave her a look and tucked a blanket around her. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

Billa snuggled down into the blanket a moment, enjoying its fire-warmed comfort, then quickly fluffed her hair to lie outside it and gave her bodice a settling yank. By the time Thorin returned, carrying their slate full of food, she had her toes demurely warming by the fire.

“A lovely picture, my pearl,” Thorin rumbled softly, and Billa blushed. Of course he noticed her primping.

“I know I said I didn’t want for anything fancy, but right at this moment, I do wish I had brought a nicer dress.”

“Nonsense,” he said firmly, setting the food down and settling next to her, his back to the cave wall. He stroked a hand, feather light, down her hair. “You need naught but a bit of light to set your hair, your skin aglow, Billa, more beautiful than the finest silk. Changeable eyes, reflecting what you wear; blue one day, blue-gray or green in the next, more fascinating than any jewel.” He gave her a teasing glance. “Honestly, you could be wearing that troll-defiled coat of yours and I’d still find you beautiful. Perhaps a bit less inclined to _embrace_ you...” 

Billa ducked her head, laughing, then looked back up at him. “You say such lovely things to me.”

“I mean them.”

“I know!” She put a reassuring hand on his arm. “I do know. I just....I can’t believe I ever thought you aloof or cold.”

“Dwarrow feel deeply, but we rarely show it to outsiders. Rarely outside the family. Once I spoke my heart to you...” He laughed ruefully. “You’re right, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to much in my life. At least not about how I felt. Not to anyone.”

Billa smiled. “These last few weeks, since the Carrock, I’ve treasured every kind word or deed or look from you, so glad at last to see again glimpse of that great heart I heard sing in my parlor. I have cherished them dearly,” Billa told him. “And, and now...” she frowned at her hands twisting in her lap, looking for the right words. He reached out and covered one restless hand with his. 

“My heart is so full," she whispered. Taking his hand with both of hers, she pressed her lips against it, too shy and not quite ready to speak of love aloud, not yet, but daring enough to press it into his skin with three tiny kisses, willing him to hear her. 

Thorin’s hand brushed her cheek, fingers stroking the wayward curls at her temple, palm gently urging her to look at him. When Billa met his gaze, his eyes were starry with love, his expression so tender, her breath caught. He leaned slowly toward her, eyes open, seeking permission. Transfixed, she tilted her chin slightly and leaned in. 

He touched her as if it were a first kiss, a chaste, restrained press of lips seeking welcome, a conversation between shyness, surety of desire, and quick, hitching breaths. He adjusted the slant of his mouth to press a bit deeper, warmer, open-mouthed but still chaste kisses drawing her in. He cradled her face in both his hands, and she shivered against his mouth, suddenly alight. He ended the kiss gently and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. She was beginning to fall in love with his hands. 

“Better?”

“Much.”

“May I offer you supper?” he asked, smiling deeply into her eyes. 

“Please.” 

He tugged the tray of food a bit closer, picked up a morsel of venison, and touched it to her lips. Raising her eyebrows, she let him feed it to her. He selected a piece for himself as she ate.

“Is this another custom?” she asked.

“It’s certainly traditional to share a private meal,” he replied, voice low, eyes on her mouth. “I do not know how others serve it.” 

Leaning forward, Billa chose a piece of cheese and offered it to him. He leaned forward, eyes on hers, and took it from her, his lips and tongue lightly caressing her fingers. 

“Oh,” she whispered, a tug of desire flaring low in her belly, and swallowed hard. Thorin wrapped his arm around her and drew her to curl between his legs before offering another bite, and soon it was a sensuous game between them, each offering a caress with every morsel. With his tongue, he chased a bit of savory meat juice down her thumb, pressed his mouth against the heel of her hand and slowly licked it clean, his eyes on hers. She tilted her head back to accept a bit of bread dipped in oil, and sucked the tip of his finger into her mouth to catch the drips. He looked at her, eyes half-hooded, and traced her oil-slicked lip with his thumb. She shivered.

“Billa?” he asked hoarsely. 

“Yes.” 

Again, he held her gaze intently as he leaned into her, cupped her cheek and gently licked the oil from her bottom lip. Billa whimpered, her breath catching in her throat, and with a small, strangled moan of his own, he took her mouth, still restrained, sweeping inside to stroke her tongue with his. When Thorin drew her lower lip between his teeth, biting gently, Billa keened, a soft, yearning sound, and melted against his mouth, clutching his arm for balance. 

“Mahal,” he groaned, reaching for her, and sat her astride one powerful thigh, skirts pooled around her, his hands stroking down her back to rest warm and heavy on her hips. Billa tangled her hands in his cool, silky hair and pushed herself up slightly to reach his mouth. Thorin flexed his thigh, moving to support her. A wave of pleasure rolled through her and she bucked slightly, breaking the kiss to gasp against his lips. Thorin gave a low, purring growl and flexed his thigh again. 

“Oh,” Billa, whispered woozily. “Oh my.” She pressed down experimentally, and Thorin rolled against her once more. Her breath came out in a rough pant. “Well, I had...experimented a bit, but this is nothing...” This time, he urged her to roll her hips as she pressed down.“ _Nothing_ like...riding my own hand....”

Thorin chuckled against her mouth, a sound of pure male satisfaction. “I strive to do far better than that, my pearl,” he breathed, rolling his own hips in time with hers. “Far better.”

She leaned back to smile at him, face flushed and glowing, her eyes hazy with pleasure, as she cupped his face in both hands, trusting him to keep her steady. “I will do my best,” she said, breath hitching as she rolled against him. “To offer a challenge.” 

“Not doing well enough if you can still speak in full sentences,” he rumbled, adjusting her slightly on the next thrust. Billa’s head rolled back as she cried out. Thorin took the opportunity to run his lips up the column of her throat, nuzzle beneath her ear and gently nibble her earlobe. When she gasped, he sucked the lobe into his mouth. She cried out, a high, thin sound, and bucked again, her hips losing their rhythm. He added gentle teeth to the suction, and she cried out once more, harsh and guttural. 

“Thorin,” she panted, “Thorin, please kiss...”

Obeying, he leaned back for her to capture his mouth, ran one hand down to cup her thigh and move her fully astride his lap, bracing her between his chest and raised knees. He gripped her hips firmly and thrust up against her for a long, sweet time, cock pressed hard against her. She went boneless for moment, whimpering against his lips, then kissed him hungrily, her hips pulsing in tiny thrusts between his restraining hands. 

Moaning, Thorin rolled beneath her, steady, implacable, loosening his grip so she could take her pleasure as she liked. He set his hands free to roam, stroking up to graze the sides of her breasts with his thumbs, down to cup her thighs and back to grip low on her hips, trying to feel her muscles flex as she rocked against him. He listened to her, voice and body both, wanting to writhe beneath her, take control of her lovely mouth, but holding on with an iron will for her to reach this first peak, forcing himself not to imagine how it would feel to have her moving against him like this, skin on skin. 

Thorin waited for her sweet voice to rise, for her shivers to become wanton, trembling shudders. Sliding his hands up her sides, he stroked his thumbs firmly against her nipples and flexed his hips hard against hers, once, twice more. She bucked in his hands, exhaling in a long, joyful cry. He rolled beneath her gently, drawing out her pleasure as she clutched at him, kissing him clumsily between panting, sweet shivers. She stilled finally, heavy and boneless, collapsed against his neck. 

“ _Well_ ,” she said in a shaky, wondering tone. Thorin tried to quell a proud chuckle but couldn’t. She propped herself up on shaky arms. 

“Look at you,” she whispered. “That smile.” 

“Look at you,” he replied, threading one hand into her hair. “My beautiful pearl.” She hummed and pushed her head against his fingers like a happy cat. She shifted against him and he had to close his eyes a moment and swallow, reminding his body there was plenty of time. It took him a moment to find his voice. 

“Billa, may I touch you?” Hands curled against his shirt, she opened her eyes slowly and gazed at him, managing to look sweet, humble and like the most desirable thing he’d ever seen all at once. “May we be naked together?’

“Thorin,” she answered, her voice low and sweet. “My skin aches for yours.”

For remembering, he had to kiss her, and crushed his mouth to hers. She matched him kiss for kiss, and he felt her small fingers pluck at the laces of his shirt. He lowered his knees and shifted her back far enough to pull it over his head. When he emerged, he found her working the laces of her bodice. He put his hands over hers. 

“Please.”

She slid her hands up his forearms, and he made quick work unlacing her despite fingers that shook a bit. Once open, he pushed it off her shoulders and she shrugged it the rest of the way off, which caused her to arch her back, and he could not help but skim his hands up her waist to cup her breasts through her shift. She swayed and sighed into the touch.

Thorin brushed his thumbs over her nipples and she gasped again. “So that’s...” she said hoarsely. 

“That’s?” 

She steadied herself, hands on his shoulders, and licked her lips. “Since you’ve been, we’ve been...I’ve...” She sighed and struggled through another breath as he caressed her. “They’ve felt...heavy. Wanting. Apparently. Your touch.”

He leaned forward, raising her on her knees to lave at a nipple through her shift and suck it softly. She rocked forward, sigh gone high and breathless again, hands tangling in his hair to urge him closer. He wrapped his arms around her, steadying, bending her until she was arched proud and firm against his mouth, and suckled until she was rocking in his arms, hips moving in unconscious, stuttering pulses. He reached to roll her other nipple between his fingers, plucking at it in time with his mouth and she moaned, shuddering, knees buckling as she apparently reached another peak. 

“Did you just?” he asked, voice muffled against her breast.

“Mm hmm,” she answered breathlessly, shivering still.

“Durin’s beard,” he swore, pressing his forehead against her breastbone. “I am the most fortunate...”

“What?”

“To have,” he kissed between her breasts, “such a passionate,” he kissed just below her collarbone, “and responsive,” he kissed one cheek, “lover.”

She sighed, letting him take her weight. “That. You. We’re still mostly dressed!” she quavered, clearly incredulous. A laugh burst out of him and he hugged her close, burying his chuckles against her shoulder. 

“No, seriously! I...you!” Her arms wrapped around him clumsily. “I didn’t know. That. Could.” One hand slipped to his bare shoulder. “Oh,” she said in a pleased tone, leaning back, as if just now realizing his shirt was gone. “Mmm.” 

His fingers found the laces of her skirt. “May I?” 

“Mmm,” she agreed dreamily, stroking his shoulders, his arms, his hair, and leaning forward to twine her arms around his neck. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to remain upright much longer.” 

“I had hoped as much.” Billa snorted against his shoulder, amused, and they both realized after a squirming moment that she’d need to stand to step out of her skirts. 

Thorin shifted to keep her steady as she kicked her skirts away. He gathered the hem of her shift in his hands and, smiling down at him, Billa took it and lifted it over her head. Her hair fell around her, curling sweetly over her shoulders.

He skimmed his hands up the sides of her thighs, up her waist, to brush his thumbs against the undersides of her breasts. “Pearl of the Evening,” he whispered, and kissed her belly. He touched the string to her pantaloons. 

“Yes,” she breathed, before he could ask. He pulled the end of it, and the knot gave way easily, the cotton beginning to pool around her hips. He encouraged them to fall, and could not help but trail his lips down and down, through her sweet curls, seeking. Finding his goal, he darted in for a taste and she swayed above him, clutching at his shoulders. 

“Another pearl,” he murmured, and tasted her again, this time a bit deeper.

“Thorin,” she quavered, “I can’t...I’m going to fall.” 

“Nowhere but into my arms.” He drew her down to lie next to him, gave her a lingering kiss of greeting, then kissed her nose.

“Hello,” she said, smiling shyly. 

“All right?” He put a comforting hand on her stomach. 

Smiling, she reached up and stroked his beard. “I thought,” she observed, “that bearded men would be too bristly to kiss.” 

“And?” He rubbed his cheeks against her palms. 

“Softer than I imagined,” she said, and drew his face down until their lips were nearly touching. Her eyes flashed. “And just bristly _enough._ ”

Thorin laughed into the kiss and rolled her into his arms. “That is very good to know, Miss Baggins.” 

“And why is that?”

“I think,” he replied, kissing down her throat, “that I should show you.” 

Billa arched and sighed as he brushed his face against her breasts, hands lightly holding his head to her when he nuzzled her stiff, pink nipples. She laughed when he pressed whiskery kisses down her stomach and shivered when he rubbed his cheeks and lips just below her navel. He lingered there, just breathing against her skin. 

“I can’t help but notice,” she observed shakily. “That you’ve stopped. And that you’re still a bit dressed.” 

“There’s a good reason for that.”

“Why?” 

He resumed kissing her belly, and moved lower, shifting between her legs. He kissed the inside of one firm, white thigh, gently stroked his cheek over it, then kissed a bit higher, just at the edge where her inner thigh met her body. She shuddered all over. 

“Thorin?”

He looked up at her. “There are two moments, making love, of such sweetness, Billa. The first, we’ve had, when your nerves fell away and you melted against me, welcoming a bolder touch. The second surrender is when those touches cease to be bed sport and become something else. I’ve felt that moment happen for other partners, watched them be swept up, but...” He kissed her thigh again, gathering his thoughts. “You have my heart. If that moment happens now, I think I will hardly, hardly be able to prevent myself from taking you.” He had to close his eyes and rest his head against her thigh. 

“Thorin?” Her voice was small and confused and he felt her tense beneath his hands. 

“Shh,” he said soothingly, kissed her thigh, and reached for one of her hands. “I want more than just taking. I want...” 

“Ohhhhhh,” she breathed, her voice rich with affection. “You want me to be more than ready so when you come to me...”

“I wish to surrender to you, as well.”

She reached for him. “Come here,” she said, looking and sounding like his every hope of a wife, a queen.

He shook his head and placed a gentle kiss at the apex of her thighs. “Trust me.” 

“But.” 

“Billa,” he squeezed her thigh, “Please.”

She nodded, giving permission, and he bent his head to kiss her in thanks, open mouthed, over that little pearl of flesh, and again, this time lapping at it with his tongue and rubbing gently just above it with his thumb. 

“Oh,” she huffed in wondering pleasure and twisted gently in his hands. “Oh my.” 

He chuckled against her as she shivered and she growled at him. He laughed again, deeply pleased, leaned into her rich, fragrant warmth, and began to lap in earnest.

It was, perhaps, the most delicious thing Billa had ever felt. The momentary discomfort of carrying on a conversation with Thorin’s head right between her thighs – truly horrible for her ability to concentrate - was swept away by the liquid, velvet heat of his tongue. She held on to the furs with both hands, trying not to float right up off the pallet. 

“That book,” she panted, trying very hard not to push her hips right into his face. “Of Primula’s. Left a few things out.” 

“Book?”

“Romance novel. How we all learned a bit more how things fit together. You know. Other than Gaffer Gamgee’s pigs.”

He growled, and the vibrations caused her eyes to roll right back in her head. “Full. Sentences.” He complained, then seemed to lick right inside her, and _then_ did something amazing with his nose and the rough silk scruff of his beard that made her arch her back and positively howl. 

Thorin grabbed her hips, and shifted her, tilting her up to his mouth. After that it was hard to keep track of what exactly he was doing except something delicious that felt rather like being devoured in the most lovely way possible. He urged her to move, and she found herself growling in abandon and doing just that. Pressing his open mouth against her, he seemed to suckle against that one, lovely spot and she broke apart, wave after wave of heat washing through her and and spangled light dancing in her vision

When she came back to herself, he was lapping at her gently, causing her to ripple with little shocks. His hand splayed across her belly, thankfully grounding her. 

“I think saw stars,” she said roughly. Her throat hurt a little. Had she screamed?

“Mmmm,” Thorin purred. “How many?” He kissed her deeply again, tongue moving against that tiny bit of flesh, and she broke anew, weakly mewling and stretching in his grip, her hips stuttering, clumsy against his mouth. 

He stroked her belly, soothing her like a skittish colt, and blew a cool breath against her heated flesh. She trembled and twisted in his hands, pressing into them, needing their weight and warmth bring her back to earth.

“Oh my goodness,” she sighed. “Oh my goodness. _More_ stars.” 

Thorin leaned up and kissed her belly. “How many, my pearl?”

“Hmm?” (Honestly, counting? She wasn’t sure where her _toes _were.)__

He nipped at her belly button. “Two, I believe, just now, as I took you with my mouth.” 

“Oh,” she replied, smiling and arching into the rasp of his beard against her stomach. “Mmm, yes.” 

“One,” he murmured, trailing his tongue under the curve of a breast, “as I lingered here.” He mouthed her nipple. “Beautifully unexpected.” 

Billa twisted, seeking more of his mouth, and Thorin obliged, laving her nipple tenderly with his tongue. Shifting, he lavished attention on the other as he moved to place one thigh between hers. 

“And then the first, as you rode me,” he murmured, and rocked gently against her sex as he took her nipple into his mouth.

She moved without thought, arching against his thigh for a long, trembling moment, his pants rough against her tender skin and his mouth so sweet at her breast it nearly hurt. 

“Thorin.” She tugged at his braids, urging him up for a kiss. “Thorin.” 

He shifted and lay beside her, catching her close in his arms. “Four stars, then,” he rumbled, his mouth held teasingly above hers.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve seen stars four times tonight?” He kissed her, eyes open and heavy-lidded, his hands in her hair. “Reached your peak of pleasure for me?”

“Oh my yes.”

“Durin’s Crown,” he replied, biting gently at the edge of her jaw. His hand closed over her breast, pressing in, warm and firm, palm stroking across her nipple, sending a jolt of heat straight to her core. She fought to speak.

“Crown?”

Thorin stroked down her side, from breast to thigh, watching his hand slide over her skin. 

“Family crest. Durin’s Crown has seven stars.” He slid to cup her sex, rocking the heel of his hand against her as she trembled. He looked up, smiling deeply into her eyes. 

“Seven, not four," he said, voice deep and low. "I would have you see them all.” He took her mouth possessively, tongue sweeping and swirling against hers as his fingers stroked up her folds and inside, the pad of his thumb firm against that sweet spot.

It was even sweeter, sharper than the moment before, his thigh between hers, and Billa arched again, thrusting against his hand. 

Thorin gave her no quarter, fingers, mouth, hands, tongue, urging her, not roughly, but gently relentless, to reach the peak again. 

He was all around her; hot mouth; strong arms; broad chest; hair thick and cool in her hands, against her cheek; and his fingers inside her, a maddening slide, but Billa could not get him close enough. She clutched at his hair, bit his mouth, arched insistently, and he gave her all she asked for and more, matching her rhythm as her hips dug down into the pallet, snapping up hard and fast, one-two-three, peaking quickly. He sought her breast, sucking strong and sharp, and she rose for him yet again, crying out in wonder, eyes wide.

Thorin caught her gaze as he gentled his hand, coaxing tender little tremors, his expression so fierce and loving, and it was as if her heart unfurled, spreading around them, full and sweet as a summer rose. She melted beneath him, a joyful sob caught her in her throat, and drew his mouth to hers. “There,” he rasped, trembling against her mouth, and wrapped both arms around her. “There.”

“Now,” she said, her voice shaking with the rightness of it. “Come to me now.”

“I do not want to let you go.” His voice was thick and she hugged him more tightly.

“This is the problem with not taking off your pants,” she pointed out and he kissed her soundly, shaking with as much mirth as desire.

“Ever practical.” 

“Most days.” She gave him a little shove. “Come back quickly.”

Thorin stood and tore quickly at his laces, eyes watching hers all the while as he disrobed. 

He was broad and stocky, thick with muscle and his cock stood out proudly, nearly flat against his muscled belly. “Oh, so beautiful,” she said, reaching for him, wanting to touch, to explore. “More than I ever imagined.”

He took her questing hand and kissed her palm. “I only have so much will, Billa, and I would have longer with you. Next time.” Kneeling between her legs, he touched her gently.

“Are you sore anywhere, my pearl? I would not hurt you for the world.”

“No, love. I’m fine.”

His eyes crinkled in a smile. “Another new name for me.” He sounded pleased. Watching her carefully, he slipped his fingers into her rich, warm heat. “Tell me if anything is tender, and especially if it hurts.”

Billa nodded. “I will, my love.” He slipped a second finger inside her and she shifted, slowly restless against the pallet, sighs soft. He leaned down to taste her, sliding in beside his fingers and she jerked against him, sobbing out in pleasure. Adding a third finger, he watched her face for any sign of pain, but instead a low, guttural moan, utterly wanton, burst forth and she clenched tight around him, her hips snapping impatiently counter to his languid slide. 

She grew hotter and wetter, drenching his fingers. He leaned in to taste her again, mouth seeking that one sure spot and there was that tell-tale digging down into the bed. He put one steadying hand on her belly as she thrust quickly against his mouth, moaning his name softly all the while.

Before Billa finished her peak, Thorin quickly leaned back, took himself in hand and rubbed the head against her pearl. She nearly convulsed right off the pallet, save for her legs snapping around his waist to pull him closer. He intended to slip inside her slowly, but with a tilt of her hips and her legs clenching around him, he slid home all in a rush. Thinking quickly, he rubbed his thumb hard, low on her belly, just over her pearl. She roared and clenched around him. He froze, holding her in place, as she shuddered. 

“Billa.”

Smiling, she rocked against him experimentally with tiny pulses of her hips, “Please, Thorin. Please. That was perfect; barely a twinge.” 

His breath punched out of him in a relieved rush, and he leaned down to kiss her, answering her gentle rocking motion with his own. Smiling, she twined her arms around his neck as he kissed her throat, her cheeks, her lips.

“Oh, my heart” She kissed him, murmuring it against his mouth. “My love, my heart.”

He stilled and moved to look at her, struck with wonder. “What did you say?”

“My heart?” 

Thorin moved to cradle her head in his hands, kissing her eyelids, her nose, and her mouth, firm and sweet. “Billa. Pearl,” he said, his voice breaking.

“What is it?

“My _name_ , or part of it. Thorin is my...use name, I think you would say,” he told her hoarsely, obviously fighting to keep clarity of mind. “We have. Secret names. My parents. Named me, Kurdu ‘Abadaz, essence of who I am, ever tied to the Arkenstone, the treasure of our line. Both named Heart of the Mountain. Kurdu is heart. Only close kin would know."

“I didn’t.” 

Thorin gathered her close, his face resting against her neck. She could feel the effort it was taking him to hold himself back. “You would not. We do not share our language with other races. That you would name me thus is…it…it may seem like a simple endearment, but to me...” He touched his mouth to hers, and she felt its trembling.

“Kurdu ‘Abadaz. Dear husband. My heart.” She stroked his hair, offered her mouth, and began to rock softly against him. One kiss, two, and she inhaled sharply. “You gave _me_ a secret name.”

“Mizim Azahyaz. Jewel of the Sea. Mizim Azahyaz Alanjuzaz. Pearl of the Evening.” He swallowed hard and pressed his forehead to hers. “The words rose in my heart. I-I cannot think them now without seeing you, shining in the sunset.” 

“Oh, your dear mind, you dear, dear heart,” Billa whispered. She gasped, quaking deep inside with the force of her feelings. Stilling, she threaded her hands in his hair and looked into his eyes. “I love you.”

“Billa,” he choked out, surging forward to take her mouth in a wild kiss. “And I you, Mizim Azahyaz...Mizim Azahyaz Alanjuzaz...”

“Kurdu ‘Abadaz,” she murmured between kisses. “Kurdu, Kurdu.”

Thorin looked down at her, his breath rasping in his throat, drinking her in, awed and humbled. He pressed a slow kiss at the side of her mouth as he stroked deeply inside her, snapping his hips, and held a moment, suspended at the apex, pressed tightly against her. Eyelids fluttering, her breath grew ragged as he stroked inside her deeply once more. She cried out, arching beneath him, and he pressed forward again, once, twice, adding a twist of his hips, and soon her moans were deep, needful, as she thrust against him, hands clutching at his sides, knees gripping his ribs, begging for more speed.

Tremors ran through her as she clutched at him, her inner muscles bearing down. He groaned low, and pressed his mouth to hers. Instantly, she gathered him even closer, her heels digging in at the small of his back as she met his thrusts. 

He let the moment ebb a bit, so he could revel in watching her, listen to the timbre of her sighs, savor the sweetness of her body beneath his, and gaze into the depth of her eyes. They rocked together until, on a sweet cry, she pressed up against him, head falling back as her body shuddered deeply, pulsing around his cock.

Thorin groaned, trying to maintain control enough to watch the beauty of her pleasure. A second later, her hips snapped down in that digging, downward thrust, and Durin’s beard, how it felt from the inside, like her body was flowering open to cradle all of him, draw him in, join them together, a profound invitation he was helpless to resist, nor did he wish to. 

Fierce joy shot through him as he surrendered to her call, surging to meet her, matching thrust after thrust until she shattered, inner muscles clutching at him so tightly that his breath sobbed out in surprise. He froze against her, shaking, stars sparking in his vision, and answered her joyous cry as he followed her over the peak. 

When his vision cleared, Thorin lay with his face against Billa’s neck while she pressed slow kisses against his temple. As he kissed her throat, the edge of her jaw, she made a satisfied sound and moved beneath him, little stretching motions that spoke of contentment and comfort. He moved to offer a simple kiss as he withdrew, and her thighs tightened against his hips. 

“Stay.” 

“Surely I’m too heavy.”

She looked up at him, serene. “Stay with me, husband.”

He took a shaky breath and touched his mouth to hers. “Wife,” he named her reverently. “Wife,” he said again, voice catching with emotion, and rocked against her in a shallow, savoring slide. 

Billa moved languidly, rubbing against him with a soft sigh as she tilted her mouth for a kiss. Thorin sank into her, enjoying her lush mouth as he lay safe in the cradle of her hips for a long, unhurried time, rocking gently, happily locked within her embrace. 

All at once, she shivered, pulsing around him, rich fluids drenching him anew, and Thorin cried out, astonished to find himself growing ready again. He moved slowly, so slowly, deliberately rubbing against her at the apex of his thrust, seeing if holding her still at that moment would please her once more. She trembled for him each time, gasping as he ground gently against her most sensitive place, little shudders rolling through her as she bore down on him, urging a deeper caress. 

Thorin hovered over her, propped on his forearms, moving inside her with strong, steady strokes, the slow swell of a wave, the beat of a heart at peace, until her breath came in little whimpering pants, constantly trembling, barely able to rock against him she was shaking so. She stroked his braids, his face, eyes bright with tears, her face so full of love it felt as if his heart was trying to press through his skin, aching to join with hers. 

“Husband,” Billa breathed, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs. “Husband.” She inhaled sharply and pressed against him, slow, jerking thrusts shaking her frame, and once more, taking her pleasure made her all the more beautiful, shining in his arms, wholly enchanting. She drew Thorin’s pleasure out of him in a long, molten wave as she looked into his eyes, joyful tears spilling over. A tear or two escaped his eyes as well, and she kissed them away, her lips soft and full against his skin. And then she smiled.

“My heart,” she whispered. “My dear heart.” 

“Yes. Yours."

 _Fin_  
~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your lovely comments have really made my week, y'all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pearl of the Evening - The Rewrite (AKA: If it happened at Beorn's, and not in the actual evening)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/886745) by [Bead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead)




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